


Primitive Pleasures

by Gothic_Lolita



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Bottom Brock Rumlow, Cheating, Choking, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Feminization, Hair-pulling, Hurt No Comfort, Internal Conflict, Lingerie, M/M, Nipple Play, No Aftercare, Pierce Is A Bag Of Dicks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Steve Rogers, Under-negotiated Kink, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 04:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothic_Lolita/pseuds/Gothic_Lolita
Summary: When Steve starts making sexual advances towards Brock and Brock is forced to reciprocate, things get more out of hand than Brock anticipated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, I don't think this counts as HYDRA Trash Party? It's... confusing.  
> To be clear here, Steve does not rape Brock. Brock is forced by HYDRA to submit to Steve's advances. From Steve's perspective, Brock shows enthusiastic consent. But as this is told from Brock's POV, it's definitely a lot more dub-con.  
> And furthermore, just because Steve isn't flat out raping Brock, does not make him a good person in this fic. He initiates kinks without clear consent from Brock and ignores what little hesitance Brock does show. Stony is also an established background relationship in this fic, so this is flat out cheating.  
> Brock's still the bad guy here, but he's also the victim.
> 
> Please read at your own discretion. This isn't rape/non-con, but I feel as though rape/non-con warnings should apply. If you think that may be triggering, please don't read this, if it's not for you, and that's fine. Stay safe, lovelies.

“Sir?” Brock stood in the doorway of Pierce’s office, waiting for permission to come in.

“Yes?” Pierce looked up from his paperwork, eyebrow arched.

Brock dared to take a few steps into the office, stopping in front of Pierce’s desk. “I have a… situation I would like to have advice on how to approach. Sir.”

“Well?” Pierce didn’t do small talk.

Brock took a deep breath. “Captain Rogers has been… making advances toward me. Sexual advances, sir. I wanted to know how you’d like the situation handled.” Brock explained, fighting to keep his voice even. A part of him already regretted coming to Pierce in the first place.

Pierce stared at Brock, blinking a few times. “Let him,” Pierce said, voice too calm.

Brock frowned. “Sir?”

“If Rogers wants to fuck you,” Pierce clarified. “You let him. We need Rogers to trust STRIKE completely for the HYDRA takeover to go smoothly, and if that means engaging in a sexual relationship with him, then so be it. You’ve mentioned liking men before, it shouldn’t be too hard. I’m sure there’s a list of people who’d kill to sleep with Captain America.” Pierce smiled to himself at that, and before Brock could get a word out, “Dismissed.”

Brock nodded, walking out of the office. He had put on some file that he was bisexual, but he was now regretting it. Brock might’ve been bisexual, but he had no desire to let Steve have his way with him. Brock took a calming breath as he walked down the hallways of SHIELD.

He’d taken worse, done worse. Brock had been tortured, beaten, abused. He could take some sex with Captain America, even if he didn’t like it. He wasn’t a child. Brock would do his duty as a HYDRA agent, no matter what that duty may be.

 

* * *

 

Steve and Brock was side by side, coming back from a STRIKE mission. They’d already stripped tac gear, and Brock almost missed his tac gear. More layers on him meant more layer between him and Steve.

“You did nice work back there,” Steve said, smiling warmly. He rested his hand on Brock’s shoulder as if it were an act of comradery.

“You didn’t do too shabby yourself.” Brock hummed, fighting his natural instinct to fidget.

Steve chuckled. “I have an unfair advantage. You’re one of the best non-powered fighters I’ve seen. You’d be good enough to make an Avenger if you asked me.” He shrugged his hand that was still on Brock’s shoulder starting to creep down his back.

“Not my thing.” Brock made a face at the idea of being an Avenger. “I just have a lot of experience working in the field, Cap. Nothing special about that.”

“You can’t have that much experience,” Steve said, studying Brock’s face. “You aren’t that old.”

“Older than I look, Cap.” Brock kept his voice even, friendly.  “I certainly don’t look as good as you do for your age, but I aged well.” Brock shrugged.

Steve arched a suggestive eyebrow. “You think I aged well?”

Brock snorted. “Well, you’re the only ninety-year-old I know who looks like a damned model.” Actually, that wasn’t true. The Winter Soldier-Barnes, he was just as good looking as Steve. Hell, if you asked Brock, he’d say Barnes was better looking, objectively. Brock had a thing for brunets.

“A model?” Steve echoed, voice dropping an octave.

Brock swallowed the lump in his throat. “Have you taken a look in the mirror lately, Cap? It’s not hard to notice.”

Steve’s hand was now on the small of Brock’s back, fingers pressing hard against him. “I know. I just didn’t know that you noticed it.” His hand slid down further until he was cupping Brock’s ass.

“I work with you almost every day, of course, I-” Brock tried to say, until Steve grabbed him, slammed him against the wall, and kissed him. Hard.

Granted, it wasn’t the worst kiss Brock had ever experienced, but that didn’t make it pleasurable. Pierce’s words echoing in his head were the only thing that had Brock kissing back, submitting to the warm mouth against his own.

Steve hummed with pleasure, pulling away from Brock’s lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for awhile. Wasn’t sure if you’d be into it. Your file said you liked both but…” Steve ran his hands over Brock’s sides.

“Trust me, I’m into it, Cap.” Brock lied, faking a breathy chuckle.

“Good.” Steve picked Brock up -which Brock wanted to snap his neck for- and carried Brock away. After a rush of changing scenery, Brock found himself in Steve’s private quarters with Steve’s tongue down his throat.

Brock tried his damned hardest to reciprocate the touches and kissing all while focusing on not throwing up in his mouth. Brock hated it, with every inch of his body, he hated it. Hated the taste of Steve’s mouth, the feeling of Steve’s hands exploring his chest, all of it. Brock hated it so much.

Steve ripped Brock’s shirt in half, tossing it aside before he started kissing down Brock’s neck, hands gripping Brock’s hips, pulling him closer to press their hips together.

“Shit, that was a good shirt, Rogers,” Brock grumbled.

“Let me make up for it.” Steve purred, throwing Brock down onto the bed. Steve pulled off his own shirt, tossing it to the side. He ran his hand through his blond hair, a motion that to anyone else might’ve been erotic, then climbed onto the bed, hovering over Brock on all fours. “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Brock did not like being called pretty, and he sure as hell didn’t like being on the bottom. He just prayed to whatever gods he could think of -hell, Thor included- that he was pulling off this facade well enough. “Not too bad yourself, Rogers,” Brock smirked, running his hands over Steve’s chest. His throat was tight, but he focused the easy smirk.

Steve hummed, studying Brock. “No, that’s not gonna work, sweetheart.” He thought a moment. “I want you to call me sir.”

“Yes, sir.” Brock gasped, swallowing back bile.

“Pants off,” Steve ordered, and Brock was wiggling out of his pants, kicking off his socks and shoes. Brock tried to ignore how naked he was under a man he never wanted to be under in the first damned place. 

Steve was kissing Brock again, and he let his mind fog over, slipping into a meditative state he was trained to use when being tortured. Brock didn’t even care if it sent the wrong messages to Steve, he just needed something to distract him from Steve’s touch.

It worked for a little bit, while Steve kissed and groped Brock, hands exploring everywhere. Brock was snapped back to reality though when slick fingers traced his hole. Brock didn’t even know when or where from Steve got the lube, but a part of him was grateful for the usage of it.

“Shit, shit, Ste-sir,” Brock caught himself. He tried to ignore his traitorous dick, standing tall and proud between his legs. “Please go slow. I haven’t taken it up the ass in a while, and I have a feeling your fucking hung.” Brock forced his shaking hand to rub Steve’s crotch, emphasizing his words.

Steve growled, hips jerking into Brock’s hand. He nipped at Brock’s earlobe. “You’ll take it how I give it to you.” His voice was final, and Brock didn’t bother holding back a shudder.

The first finger burned, and Brock clung to the feeling. Pain was familiar, pain was order. Brock focused on the pain, breathes coming in desperate gasps. He could do pain. Pain was familiar.

Steve’s second finger caught Brock off guard, had him crying out, body clenching. Brock clung to Steve’s forearms, lungs burning for air he couldn’t seem to draw in.

“Sh, sh, doll.” Steve kissed Brocks temple, but his fingers didn’t slow down. “You can take it.” Brock nodded blearily, squeezing his eyes shut. Steve started sucking and biting marks onto Brock’s neck, in places he would never be able to hide tomorrow morning.

A third finger squeezed in, and suddenly Steve’s fingers brushed a spot inside of Brock that had him seeing stars. “Shit, shit,” Brock swore, starting to squirm. The pain was fading, and Brock was left with the horrible realization that he was enjoying this. Brock’s head was spinning, stomach twisting in awful knots.

Steve’s fingers slid out, and he pulled his dick out. And holy fucking mother of god, he was big. Brock had done his fair share of messing around in his younger days, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a cock that fucking big before. Stever started lubing himself up, and Brock frowned.

“Wait, wait, condoms?” Brock rasped, hating that his voice was already hoarse. He hadn’t been moaning before, had he?

“I’m clean, and I can’t catch anything, it’s fine.” Steve waved him off, starting to line up.

Brock held back a swear. “Wait, Ste-sir, sir, I want to-can I ride you?” Brock asked, and god, he didn’t want to ride Steve, but he figured if he did, at least he could somewhat control the pace they went at.

Steve’s eyes darkened, and his smile was fucking feral, something that looked so utterly wrong on Captain America. “Since you asked so nicely…” Steve flipped them over with a single move, and Brock most certainly did not squeal. With the new position, Steve shucked his pants, tossing them aside. “Alright, come on, sweetheart. I wanna see how pretty you’ll look on my cock.” Steve purred, sliding his hands over Brock’s chest.

Brock nodded, lifting himself into a squat over Steve’s massive cock. He wrapped one hand around Steve’s member to steady it, and then let himself sink down.

It hurt. Like hell. And that was probably the best part about it. The pain, Brock could take the pain. He could shut everything else, focus on the pain. Shut out the horrific realization that he was sitting on Captain America’s dick, and just focus on the pain.

Brock’s eyes fell shut when he was finally seated, head tilted back while he let out soft pants. Steve’s touches were soft, almost soothing over his too-hot skin.

“Brock,” Steve whispered his name like it was a treasure, and god, Brock hated that. Hated the way it almost sounded as if Steve thought he owned Brock.

“Hngh,” Brock moaned before he could stop the sound from tumbling over his lips. “Shit, gimme a second, you’re fucking big, I-” Brock rolled his hips and-

Oh. Oh, that felt nice. So maybe Brock liked bottoming more than he cared to admit. Granted, he didn’t like that it was Steve under him, but Brock could let his eyes fall shut, pretend it was someone else.

Pretend it was… pretend it was the Asset. Yeah, that was nice. Sure, it was as fucked up as it could get, but what about any of this wasn’t? If Brock wanted to fucking get off thinking about the Winter Soldier while riding Steve Rogers’ cock, he could and he would.

Brock started to grind down on Steve’s dick with more vigour, pretending one of the hands sliding over him was made of metal, and the soft sighs coming from below him were falling from the Asset’s lips.

“Look at you, taking it so well,” Steve murmured, fingertips brushing over Brock’s nipples.

Brock gasped, body jerking. “Fuck, not there, too sensitive, I’ll come.” He warned. So what if Brock had oversensitive nipples.

Steve’s grin was devilish, and he pinched both of Brock’s nipples. Hard. Brock hated himself for the shriek that came out of him, back arching.

With no warning, Steve grabbed Brock’s hips and flipped them over, Brock on his back, one leg thrown over Steve’s shoulder. And then he let loose, pounding into Brock at a pace no normal human could ever go at.

“Fucking shit!” Brock howled, back arching. The pain was back, but now it was blending, twisting with the pleasure, making it impossible for Brock to try and latch onto it. “Please, sir, please you gotta slow down, I can’t-”

“Sh,” Steve nipped at his jawline. “You can take it.” He pounded into Brock harder. “And you know what? I changed my mind. Call me daddy.”

Brock instantly felt like he was going to throw up again, face twisting as moans for forced out of him. “Yes… yes, daddy.” He mumbled, turning his head to bury his face into the pillow.

“Good boy.” Steve’s voice was deep, dark. “Though really, the way you’re taking it, you’re more like a girl. Sensitive tits,” He twisted Brock’s right nipple for emphasis, “nice slack cunt, you’re really shaping up to be a nice bitch.”

“Daddy,” Brock gasped. He wanted to protest, tell Steve he wasn’t really into the feminization no matter which side he was on, but he couldn’t find the words. And even if he could, Pierce’s orders would’ve held them back.

“You like that?” Steve asked, driving even harder into him. Brock was screaming, tears starting to run down his face. How the hell was it even possible? “Of course you, do, fucking whore.”

Brock whined, body shaking. He couldn’t think straight, he could barely remind himself to breathe. His entire world was narrowed to Steve’s touch, Steve’s words, Steve. And for as much as he hated it, Brock could deny his body. Couldn’t deny the response Steve dragged from him, voluntary or not. Couldn’t deny how much he was fucking enjoying himself.

Steve looked like he was going to say something more when his phone rang. Brock expected Steve to ignore it, but instead, he picked it up. And fucking answered it, not even slowing down. 

“Hey, doll,” Steve said into the phone, his voice perfectly even and smooth as if he weren’t fucking the living hell out of someone. He put a finger to his lips and winked at Brock. “Yeah, just got back from a STRIKE mission.” He paused, listening to the person on the other end. “I know sugar, I miss you too. As long as I can finish up this mission report before the end of the day, I should be back by tonight.” 

Brock frowned. Jesus, was Steve on the phone with someone he was dating? Sure as hell sounded like that. Just the idea of it made Brock sick all over again. Brock was a shitty person, he’d be the first to admit that, but cheating? That was just fucking low.

“Mm, are you now?” Steve purred, adjusting his grip on the phone and Brock’s leg to fuck him even harder. Brock covered his mouth, trying not to go insane from the sensations. “I’m sure you do, dollface. Do me a favour and get some sleep, would you? You sound tired, and I refuse to touch you until you’ve slept for a least a few hours.” There was a pause. “Oh yes, I know. I’m the worst boyfriend ever.” Steve rolled his eyes.

Brock didn’t really hear the rest of the conversation, his heart pounding in his own ears was too loud to focus on much else. He tried his damned hardest to keep quiet while reminding himself to breathe.

“Mhm. Yes, doll. I love you too. I’ll see you tonight. Bye.” Steve hung up and tossed the phone aside. “Sorry about that,” Steve said, turning his attention back to Brock. 

Brock didn’t say anything, though he did let his hand fall from his mouth. His moans were back, twisted past his bitten lips.

Steve picked up Brock again, flipping him onto all fours to do it doggy style. He rooted a hand in Brock’s hair, tugging his head back.

“Look at you, fucking made for this,” Steve was running his mouth again, still pulling on Brock’s hair. “Such a good little bitch for me.”

Brock dropped his head and let out a choked whine. His body was a mess of sensations, conflicting with the distressed signals his mind was sending, and everything just felt like a mess. Brock’s body and mind were at war, and he hated himself, even more, when he realized he was thrusting back into Steve.

“I’m close,” Steve warned, thrusts getting more erratic. Brock reached down to jerk himself off, but his hand was yanked away. “Ah, did I say you could touch yourself?”

“Shit, please,” Brock gasped. He wasn’t twenty anymore damnit, and he hadn’t come untouched in years. “Please, daddy, I need it, need to come, please let me.” He was whining, all remnant of self-control gone. He didn’t care if he sounded wanton if he was begging. His body had won out. He just wanted to fucking come and be done with it all.

“Your body belongs to me,” Steve snarled, spanking him. Brock hated the shriek that came out of him as he fell down onto his elbows. “You don’t get to jerk off, don’t get to come without my permission, understand?”

“Yes, yes daddy.” Brock panted, clawing at the sheets.

Steve sped up his thrusts, hands coming down to play with Brock’s nipples. Tugging and twisting and pinching, and god Brock was going to lose his fucking mind if Steve kept that up. The pleasure was taking over his mind, taking over his body. Everything was too hot, too much. He needed to come, he needed-

“Come,” Steve whispered, and in comparison to everything else he’d been saying, it was almost gentle. Brock hated the scream that tore from his throat as his vision went white.

It was probably one of the best orgasms Brock had ever had in his damned life, and through the haze, he almost forgot to hate himself for it. Hate himself for the way he couldn’t even think about anything else, how his body only existed for the sole purpose of such primitive pleasures in that moment. 

When Brock finally came down from his high, he was vaguely aware that Steve must’ve come as well, feeling a wetness drip out of his ass as Steve pulled out. Brock collapsed onto the bed, sighing.

Brock rolled over, watching as Steve stepped off of the bed, the damned fucker not winded in the slightest. He grabbed a water bottle from the nightstand. “Here.” Steve handed Brock the bottle, his voice perfectly even and normal. Brock nodded in thanks, taking the bottle and drinking half of it in one go. He watched as Steve used a spare tee shirt to wipe away sweat from his face and chest before tossing it aside to get dressed.

“So who was that you were on the phone with?” Brock asked, partly for the sake of small talk to keep things low in suspicion from Steve, and partly because Brock didn’t think he would be able to stomach another moment of silence.

Steve glanced over at him. “Oh, that was Tony,” He said.

“Stark?” Brock wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, jumping into his pants. “We’ve been dating since the Battle of New York. He’s annoying, but it becomes endearing once you get to know him.” Steve paused, thinking for a moment. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? That I’m dating him while we…?” 

“What you do and who you do it with outside of STRIKE ain’t my business,” Brock shrugged, keeping his tone even. 

Steve nodded again. “You know, I always thought you and Jack had a thing.” He admitted, grinning wolfishly.

Brock made a face. “Rollins? He can kiss my ass.” He shrugged, sitting up. Fuck, he was gonna be sore for a while. “I haven’t really done much romance shit since joining SHIELD.”

“You’re missing out,” Steve said, tugging his shirt on. “It’s nice.”

“Wouldn’t you know,” Brock snorted, pushing himself to his feet.

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “Tony’s a great guy. I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

“Yet you seem fine fucking your teammate up the ass,” Brock noted, putting his clothes back on after he’d wiped away the excess come with some tissues.

“Lust and love aren’t the same things.” Steve defended. “Besides, everyone’s got a type.”

“You sayin’ I’m the same type as Tony fucking Stark?” Brock glanced up.

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got a thing for snarky brunets with killer smirks.”

Brock rolled his eyes. “Damn, you make it sound like you had a thing with Barnes too.”

Steve arched his eyebrow. “You think I didn’t?”

“Point taken,” Brock grunted. “Hey, you got a shirt I can borrow? You tore mine clean in half.”

“Hang on.” Steve opened a dresser drawer, rifling through it. “Here.” He tossed Brock a shirt.

Brock caught the shirt. It was a navy blue with the Captain America shield in the centre. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Clint gave it to me as a gag gift,” Steve’s voice was innocent, but his smirk wasn’t. Brock sighed with defeat, tugging the shirt on. It was just big enough to make it clear it wasn’t his, hanging loosely on his frame.

“Well this was fun, but I have shit to do. See you around, Rogers.” Brock cast a smirk over his shoulder, swallowing down bile. He turned to walk out of the room when a hand wrapped around his throat and yanked him back.

“Do me a favour, sweetheart.” Steve’s voice dropped down low again. “Next time I see you, I want you to be wearing a pair of nice panties. I think a nice dark pink would look good on you.”

The want to throw up was back again. “Yes, daddy,” He mumbled.

“Good girl.” Steve smacked his ass, then let him go.

Brock stumbled out of Steve’s quarters, barely remembering to shut the door behind him. He kept his eyes ahead, chin tilted up, avoiding any looks he got from people walking by him. He knew this was going to spread like fucking wildfire. Brock almost wondered how Steve thought he was going to keep this from Stark. He shook the thought out of his head, it wasn’t something he had to worry about, anyway.

Remembering Pierce’s words, Brock made a mental note to look for panties online when he got home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watersports, humiliation, feminization, lingerie, degradation, orgasm denial, choking, oral sex, and more of Steve being a general dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm changing the rating to this to rape/non-con with this chapter because it does get darker quick. But yalls asked for more, so here's chapter 2.

Brock fucking hated wearing panties. He hated the way the chafed, hated how they didn't cover a damned thing, hated how fucking flimsy they were, hated all of it.

Brock thanked god that they didn't have a STRIKE mission today, and he was only going to briefly see Steve while filing paperwork. Hopefully, it wouldn't be long enough for Steve to corner Brock for sex. Probably not, but Brock could hope.

It was going pretty well, hell, Brock almost thought he would make it without seeing Steve as he was leaving. But. But his luck couldn't have been that fucking sound, of course.

Brock held in a scream when a hand grabbed his forearm, and he was tugged into the old showers no one used because of the mould.

The first kiss was hard and breathtaking, in all the wrong ways. Brock let out a startled groan, tilting his head to give Steve more access.

"Hey, sugar," Steve said, grin wild.

"Give a guy a warning next time, big guy," Brock grunted. "Damn near almost gave me a heart attack."

Steve pinched Brock's ass. "Don't be so dramatic." He slid his hand down the front of Brock's pants. "You're wearing panties." Steve's voice was gleeful. He started rubbing Brock through the thin silk. Brock's hips bucked to their own accord, and a whine fell from his lips.

"Shame I don't have the time to give you a proper fuck." Steve hummed. "Strip. Leave the panties on. Knees, sweetheart."

Brock tried to keep his hands from shaking as he tugged layers off, tossing them aside. Once he only had the panties on, Brock dropped to his knees, staring up at Steve.

"Good girl." Steve ran a hand through Brock's hair. Steve pulled out his cock, stroking it a few times. "Hands behind your back, whore. Open your mouth and hold still."

Brock clasped his hands together at the small of his back, letting his jaw fall open.

The first slid of Steve's cock in his mouth was gentle and shallow, as if testing the waters. Then he wrapped a hand around Brock's neck and let loose.

Brock could barely breathe, barely think. He choked and gagged around Steve's too-big dick, not even bothering to try and use any form of technique. Steve didn't seem to care about granting him oxygen, only using his throat as a fleshlight. His brutal thrusts had tears running down Brock's face.

"Fucking made for this," Steve was saying, growling nasty things at Brock. "Just a damned sleeve for my cock, little bitch. You don't fucking matter, all you are is a worn cock sleeve." He buried himself to the hilt, massaging Brock's throat. Brock gagged, trying to pull back. He needed to breathe, he needed-

Steve pulled out and Brock would've collapsed if he weren't being held up by his hair. "Please, I can't-" Brock was panting, eyes unfocused.

"Shut up." Steve slapped him, then shoved his cock back down Brock's throat. "You don't get to talk back to me, bitch." Steve lifted his foot to rub Brock's crotch with it. Brock sobbed, hips jerking. "Look at you, rubbing yourself off on my foot like a dog. Fucking pathetic." Steve buried himself to the hilt and started massaging again. Brock choked, hips desperately humping Steve's foot so he would remain hard.

"Shit, shit, I'm gonna..." Steve pulled out and came all over Brock's face. Brock held back his face of disgust, but a small whimper did escape.

"Daddy, please," Brock said, throat sore.

Steve only hummed to himself, then he abruptly kicked Brock in the chest. Brock didn't have the energy in him to hold himself up and instead fell backwards, landing sprawled out on his back. He couldn't stop a pained groan from dislodging itself from Brock's throat.

Brock thought it couldn't get any worse. He was on the floor, wearing goddamned panties, face covered in Steve's come, and still fucking hard.

He was wrong.

It got worse, so much worse when Steve took a fucking piss. Right on Brock's crotch, over the panties. Soaking the fabric, drenching his hips.

Brock turned his head, eyes squeezed shut. He couldn't look Steve in the eye, didn't think he would ever be able to again. Brock would give anything to end this.

"Rub yourself off." Steve's order caught Brock's attention.

Brock didn't know why the hell he was still hard, but he was, thankfully. He tried to keep his hand from shaking as he reached down to rub himself over the fabric. Brock gasped, hips jerking into his own hand. He rubbed harder, trying to reach his peak. Once Brock orgasmed, this would be over, he just needed to come.

"Rub your nipples." Steve's voice was sharp.

Brock moaned when his handle made contact with the sensitive bud, rubbing and twisting it. He didn't care if all he could smell was the piss he was grinding into his own dick, didn't care if his face was wet with Captain America's come. He just needed to come, god Brock needed to fucking come. He squeezed his eyes shut if he could just-

Steve's phone chimed, catching both of their attention. Steve already had his phone in his hand -god, had he been taking pictures?- and he checked it with a slight hum of discontent. "I have to go." He kicked Brock's hand out of the way and promptly stepped on Brock's cock.

 

Brock screamed.

Steve took his foot off of Brock's now soft cock. "You should get cleaned up. You look like a two cent whore." He advised coolly, and with that, he was gone.

Brock lie on the floor for a few self-indulgent moments, before pushing himself to his feet and stumbling over to a toilet to vomit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I feel dirty.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going with it as I go if you have any kink suggestions, lemme know. Also, whilst I wanna keep this PWP, mostly Brock/Steve, if yall want a definitive storyline to this, you have two choices. 1- Brock runs away with the Asset (Bucky-bear) before the HYDRA takeover, and while Steve doesn't flat out become HYDRA or anything, he does take a mental hit and becomes very, VERY twisted while Brock gets a bit of a redemption arc, or 2- Tony finds out about Steve/Brock, but instead of being angry, he wants in on the fun, and after it's revealed that Brock is HYDRA, they decide to keep him as a sex toy/pet instead of flat out killing him and things get more and more nasty.   
> Of course, option 3 being none of the above, and this just stays the way it is. Let me know what you guys want!


End file.
